“I was worried. I wanted to talk to Grace and see what was going on,” he finished.
Neil watched him, waiting. “And?”
“And I never heard back from her.”
Neil saw other man’s hesitation and waited. There was something else, he was sure of it.
“Look if you know something... I’d hate to be the one responsible...” he pushed.
Simon looked wretched. “It’s not as simple as you think. He has me by the balls.”
“Who?” Neil asked through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to shake him.
Simon signed again, more deeply this time. “Okay. Why don’t we sit down? But first you have to promise you won’t mention this to anyone.”
“We went to school together, me and Daniel,” Simon started, clutching the generous glass of whisky he’d poured.
Neil did his best to mask his impatience, sensing that Simon might clam up if he rushed him.
“I went to the Curzon School. I know, it’s pretty pricey. I won a scholarship bursary that covered both tuition and boarding. All the other boys in my class were the sons of peers and businessmen, but I got on alright, I always thought. Maybe I was being naive.”
“Well done you,” Neil said, solemnly.
Simon looked wounded. “Do you want me to tell you or not?”
“Go on, just get to the point. I need to find Grace.”
“I only started at the school when I was thirteen, so I missed the first year. Everyone else had made their friends in the first year, so it was hard in the beginning. But I got friendly with a guy in my dorm, Daniel. Pretty soon, we were doing everything together. He was popular and his parents were unimaginably wealthy, but Daniel himself was perfectly normal. Almost too normal, now that I look back on it; he was so even tempered and reasonable. I realise now that that’s a strange characteristic for a teenage boy,” Simon said, looking up at Neil.
Neil nodded.
“Anyway, school was school; we played rugby in the junior years, before our focus turned to alcohol and girls later on. We got up to the usual, sneaking out at night to the local pub. Daniel was like a brother to me at that stage. One night when we were sixteen, I woke up and noticed that he had gone. I assumed that he had snuck down the pub. Anyway, I threw my coat and trainers on and snuck out quietly. It was only around eleven o’clock. It was about five minutes later when I met him coming back. He was drunk. And covered in blood. I asked him what he’d done, but he wouldn’t give me an answer. He grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the school, and made me swear not to say anything.
“The following morning, he acted normally. I didn’t think much more of it. He kept disappearing throughout the day – I presumed it was to be sick. Like I said, he’d been pretty drunk. That evening, I was called to the headmaster’s office. My parents were there, with two policemen. I knew immediately that something was wrong. The way they were all looking at me...” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“Daniel had been seeing one of the girls in the village. We all did: the school was in the middle of nowhere, so they were bored and so were we. It was the usual teenage stuff. This girl, Rebecca, had broken up with him a few weeks beforehand. It happened all the time – go out with someone for a while, then date their friends. It wasn’t serious; we usually didn’t get much further than a kiss and a quick grope in the car park.
“He seemed fine about it. He’d moved on to another girl, I’ve forgotten her name now. Rebecca had moved in on me. I was a bit hesitant at first, but he said it was alright and one thing led to another,” he looked up at Neil, who watched impassively.
“So I walked into that room, and knew immediately that something terrible had happened. Why else would the police be there. But I still thought it must have been to question me about Daniel, not...”
Neil frowned. “It wasn’t?”
“No,” Simon shook his head. “Rebecca had been beaten to a pulp the night before, and had pointed the finger at me. The police had searched my belongings and found bloody clothes.
“I was expelled on the spot, and taken into custody. It broke my parents, even though I tried and tried to tell them that it wasn’t me. It just seemed like a preposterous lie: Rebecca herself was accusing me, and they had his clothes. There was no CSI back then,” he smiled wryly.
“Couldn’t they test the clothes now, surely there’s–”
Simon snorted. “Do you think he left it at that? There was always the risk that someone might believe my story over his. His father hired me the best lawyer money could buy, just like he’d paid Rebecca’s family to blame me and not his son. At least that’s what I assume he did, and I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since.
“I was tried as a child and my hotshot lawyer got me off. He dragged Rebecca’s mother’s name through the dirt, calling all kinds of witnesses to prove how unreliable and irresponsible she was. Rebecca herself had died in hospital from her injuries. Her mother was an alcoholic who was practically down-and-out, so no one would have believed her if she’d changed her story.
“So I got off, but the accusation stuck. I had been in detention waiting to go to trial for almost a year. Safely locked away as far as Daniel’s family was concerned. I still didn’t fully understand it though: when I got out I was full of rage. I was going to make sure Daniel paid for what he had done to Rebecca. And to me, to a lesser extent. He didn’t kill me, but I was a nerdy kid locked up with little gang members and psychopaths. It was anything but easy.” He took a large gulp from the glass in his hand, before continuing.
“I moved home with my parents to Surrey. They still believed I was guilty. In their minds, I had gotten on the right side of a naive little rich boy who had convinced his father to get me off. They refused to hire me a lawyer. I went to the local police to try and get them to reopen the case. They promised to look into it. Judging from their expressions, I didn’t hold out much hope. A couple of days later I was walking home from the shops with my mother when a van squealed up behind up. Two men jumped out at us. My mum started screaming and one of them held a gun to her throat. That’s the kind of people I was dealing with. They shoved a sack over my head, tied my hands behind me, and threw me into the back.
“We drove for what felt like hours. I have no idea where we went. I was thrown back and forth constantly so it must have been deep into the countryside.”
Neil looked opened his mouth to interrupt.
Simon continued rapidly. “I was dragged out of the back roughly and carried into a filthy building. It was dark inside, but there were bits of straw on the ground, I could feel them digging into me. It must have been a farm or stables. I don’t know how many people were there, but there was at least two and they took turns kicking the shit out of me,” he lifted his floppy fringe and pointed to a snaking scar along the left side of his hairline.
“I couldn’t even protect my face. Eventually, they must’ve run out of steam or gotten bored. One of them – he was panting when he said it – leaned in closed to my ear and whispered ‘you keep your mouth shut laddie, and don’t be squealing to the police, or next time it’ll be your mum we pick up.’
“They didn’t need to do any more kicking after that, I’d gotten the message. They picked me up and dumped me back in the van and took off again. We drove for ages, although I had lost all sense of perspective at that stage. Eventually, we stopped and I was dragged out. I was waiting for the next kicking but it never came. A few minutes later the van drove off.”
He took another long gulp and finished his drink, standing up for another. He didn’t look at Neil; he seemed lost in the story now.
Sitting back on the couch, he played with his glass for a while before speaking again, ignoring the sound of Neil’s foot tapping impatiently against the floor. “So, yeah. I lay there for I don’t know how long, and only heard the occasional car drive past. I tried to get my hands free but I was exhausted and couldn’t muster the strength to do anything effective. Eventually, I heard a car
pull up. I thought they’d come back to finished me off. Instead it was a bloke on his way home from work. He’d seen my trainers and called the police.
“I spent two weeks in hospital. The police came to see me but I kept my mouth shut,” he looked up at Neil with a weak smile. “And that’s it. Until a few months back when Daniel started working with Kirsty. He told her the official version and she was disgusted. Who wouldn’t be? And he warned me to stay away from her, even if she did consider coming near me again. So you can understand why I had to be sure something was up, even though it was the first thing I thought of when I saw Grace’s email.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re sure he’s behind this.”
“When Grace replied and told me she was certain something had happened, I tried to call her. I haven’t really spoken to Kirsty in the last few months, and I needed to find out if he had become part of her life in any way. I would have told her if I’d gotten through to her. I don’t know, maybe he isn’t. But I know he hasn’t been in the office for some time, and I know what he’s capable of.”
Neil frowned. “Why didn’t you go to the police if you were sure he was behind it?”
“I thought about it. I wanted to,” Simon answered, staring at the floorboards, “it wasn’t just the threats though, I think that was just an interim thing. I worked my arse off for the rest of that year and got a scholarship to the States on the back of my A level results. I even forgot about him for a while. But he didn’t forget about me. I can’t tell you any more, but he has enough dirt to destroy me. I wouldn’t dream of upsetting him. Except now it looks like someone’s life is at stake. I’m sorry I can’t give you anything more concrete, but believe me. I know he’s behind it.”
Neil stood up and took out his phone, trying to think clearly. “Right. Do you know where he lives?”
“No, I’ve kept as far away from him as possible until he turned up at the bank. And I didn’t want to pry in case he found out. What are we going to do?”
Neil walked to the door, but turned and paced back to him. “I don’t know. It might be too late to do anything,” he replied, through gritted teeth.
Simon’s face fell. “Don’t say that. There has to be something we can do!”
Neil tapped at his phone. “There is. We can find out for sure if he’s there, and then work out what to do. It’s ten to five. You still have time to call someone in HR and find out his home address. Do you have a laptop? And you were close friends once right? Can you remember his date of birth and mother’s maiden name? Pets' names. School names. Friends. I need to know everything you know.”
Simon nodded, leading Neil to his home office beside the kitchen.
Daniel’s emails didn’t reveal much more than the fact that he had flown one-way to Bangkok. The confirmation email was dated the night before the flight, which worried Neil a great deal. He’d obviously booked on the spur of the moment. He could find no clue as to what had compelled Daniel though, and that worried him more: he knew he was missing something.
Simon hung up the phone and shook his head. “No luck. They’re pretty strict about privacy.”
Neil shook his head.“I was able to get into his emails. It appears that he booked a flight to Bangkok last Tuesday night, and flew out the following morning.”
The colour drained from Simon’s face, as the corners of his mouth folded downwards. “No. We have to get over there. I told you what he did before.”
Neil grabbed his arm firmly. “We can’t go off half-cocked. If this guy is as mad as you say, we’re going to need every bit of useful information that we can get.”
“He’s a psycho, isn’t that enough information? I’m going to call BA now, and get us on the next flight over there. There’s no point in going to the police, I tried that before.”
Neil nodded, “I’d tend to agree with you on that one.” He took the phone from Simon’s hand.
Simon called out the number he’d found on the corporate directory. Neil was surprised to hear dial-tone, and astonished when he heard “Lane” on the other end of the line.
“Hi there, I’m looking for George Graham?”
“Wrong number. Sorry.”
“What happened?” Simon demanded.
“Nothing. What’s the number for reception?” Neil asked, fingers poised.
“Yes hello there, I called a moment ago looking for Daniel Lane but didn’t get through. Could you forward me to someone in his department? It’s urgent.”
He waited.
“Susan, Bank of North America.”
“Hello Susan. I was looking for Daniel Lane but I can’t seem to reach him.”
“Yes, he’s working from home so he may have popped out. Can I help you with something?”
“Maybe. We were actually supposed to meet. How long will he be out of the office?”
“I don’t know. He’s been out for around a week now. Broken ankle.”
“Ah, I broke mine last year. It’s not pleasant. Listen, do you have his home address? He was supposed to come meet me last night; I guess now I know why he didn’t show. I’d like to stop by and make sure he’s ok.”
“Well...”
“Oh I’m sorry, I’m George Graham. Old friend from Cambridge.”
“Sorry,” Susan laughed apologetically. “All these company information security policies. Never know who’s calling looking for information these days. Let me check our contact list.”
“Thanks a lot, Susan,” Neil said cheerily when she’d read him the address. He hung up and shrugged.
Neil picked the lock in a matter of seconds. They had managed to get on a direct flight to Bangkok that evening, but had taken a detour via Chelsea at Neil’s insistence. Simon stood behind him nervously shuffling his balance from one foot to the other.
Opening the door and stepping inside quickly to avoid attracting attention, Neil was immediately struck by the air of money the place exuded. Daniel was obviously rich; that was clear now, even if it hadn’t already been apparent from his address. The entire hallway was panelled in dark wood. Neil wasn’t an expert in home decor, but he imagined it wasn’t wood veneer. Expensive-looking paintings decorated its length. Neil couldn’t even begin to imagine how much this place was worth. Nor did he particularly care.
Getting on with the task at hand, they went from room to room, looking for a study or work area. Neil found it in one of the spare bedrooms: a high tech PC installed in an antique oak desk, the flatscreen monitor incongruous in its old world setting. He pressed the switch, waiting impatiently for it to boot up.
Simon left the room and walked back to the master bedroom, surveying the neatly-made bed before opening the first set of wardrobe doors. There were no empty hangers inside. He moved to the next set of double doors and found the same thing: he didn’t appear to have taken much at all, judging from the neatly stacked shelves of cashmere knits and t-shirts. As he turned to leave the room, something on the other side caught his eye.
Neil checked the living room, where he couldn’t help but admire Daniel’s top-of-the-range sound system. The room was dominated by two huge windows, with a glorious view over the city. Apart from the enormous flatscreen TV and a sumptuous suite in burgundy leather, the room was strangely bare. There were no photographs or paintings.
In the dining room he found the same thing: no family photos, no evidence of interests or hints at Daniel’s personality. Frowning, he returned to the computer room, where Simon watched the screen impatiently. Neil shook his head as he entered the room. He had expected to find something. He looked at Simon more closely. The other man had turned deathly pale.
“Did you find something?” he asked.
Simon nodded silently. Neil could see the anger almost bursting from every feature on his face. “It’s Kirsty’s.” He held out his hand to reveal a single spherical silver earring. It had been tangled up in the thick carpet pile.
“Are you sure? They all look the same to me,” Neil smirked, and instantly reg
retted it.
“Yeah, I bought them,” Simon glowered. “I found this one under the bastard’s bed.”
Neil turned to the computer, which had finally finished loading.
Simon continued. “I thought there was something going on between them, but she denied it. When’s he going to stop doing this?”
Neil ignored him and started typing.
“Let’s just go. We don’t need to look at his tax returns, do we?” Simon hovered at the door.
Neil looked back from the monitor and held his hand up. “Just give me a minute. We’ll still make the flight. It doesn’t leave for another four hours.”
As Neil typed furiously, Simon paced behind him, watching anxiously. “Can you do that any faster?” he asked.
Neil took a deep breath and turned around. “Have you checked the kitchen?”
Simon clenched and unclenched his fists, and shuffled to the door. “What do you think we’re going to find in the kitchen?”
“I don’t know, Simon,” Neil answered. “Can you just go look?” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “There’s nothing else we can do for the moment. If he’s as devious as you say, we don’t know who he’s got working for him.”
Simon shook his head. “But we don’t know what’s happening inside the apartment.”
Neil looked at him coldly. “I know. But we will soon, when we get over there.”
Neil wasn’t sure if he believed Simon’s story yet, and wasn’t sure what he thought of the nervous man who was currently clattering down the hall towards the kitchen. With Grace’s life potentially at stake, he was at ease withholding information from his new companion.
An associate of his was already working to penetrate Bank of North America’s systems to follow the trail of Daniel’s diverted work number. He had already spoken to Mike in Bangkok and asked him to oversee things while they were in the air. Mike was a desk-dweller, but was well connected to others who were not. He had agreed to find someone to watch the building until they arrived. Mike himself was busy figuring out whether the building had CCTV. If it did, his next task would be to hijack it. The next step depended on the outcome of the phone trace. It might all be over by the time Simon and Neil touched down in Bangkok.
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